Ashes To AshesJoaquin Phoenix doesn't Have Enough chemistry To Make 'Clay Pigeons' Fly.

By Stacey Richter

OCTOBER 12, 1998:IT SEEMS LIKEClay Pigeons would be a hip, funny,
Tarantino-style thriller. It was directed by the twentysomething
David Dobkin, and stars fashionable youngsters Janeane Garofalo,
Joaquin Phoenix, and Vince Vaughn. And Clay Pigeons tries
very hard to be a funny, Tarantino-style thriller. But it's not.
Even though there are lots of "wacky" murders and colorful
characters, and even some genuinely funny episodes, Clay Pigeons
just...lies there, like a lump of clay.

After I left the theater, I had a tough time figuring out what
exactly made this movie so dissatisfying, since it had many of
the elements of Pulp Fiction; and everybody seemed to like
Pulp Fiction, though personally I can't remember it. After
some soul searching, I concluded that two things doomed Clay
Pigeons: First of all, none of the characters did anything
for any reason. This is at odds with most people's life experience.
Secondly, Phoenix is not cut out to be a leading man.

The story revolves around Clay Bidwell (Phoenix), a morose gas-station
attendant with the angular frame and dark-stained eye sockets
of an undertaker. I guess that's a good thing, because before
we know it he's disposing of bodies left and right. First there's
Clay's best friend, Earl (Gregory Sporleder). Clay is a "friend"
to Earl the way Ms. Tripp was friend to Ms. Lewinsky; we quickly
discover he's been poking the latter's bitchy wife Amanda (Georgina
Cates) on a regular basis. Earl is distraught about the cuckolding,
we learn, while he and Clay indulge in the fine old sport of drinking
beer and shooting bottles. He is so distraught that he's going
to kill himself, but before he does it Earl makes sure Clay understands
that he has cleverly planned his suicide so that it will appear
that Clay has murdered him.

Wow, what a smart guy! Clay sort of believes him though, and
after Earl is dead he disposes of the body the way people in movies
dispose of bodies--by putting it in a truck and rolling it over
the edge of an abandoned quarry, at which point the truck obligingly
explodes. Like the recent Rounders, Clay Pigeons
was written by a first-time screenwriter and directed by a first-time
director, both lads who seem to have gained the sum of their experience
of the workings of the world at the movies. Thus, the setting
here is a small town where everyone has a wrap-around porch, drives
a pickup truck and eats grits at the diner. Everyone goes to the
same honky-tonk bar for recreation. The jail has one little cell
with mint green walls, etc.

Into this pre-described world waltzes Lester Long (Vaughn), a
truck drivin' cowboy who does a little serial killin' on the side.
He's the proverbial charming sociopath, and watching Vaughn be
scary and smooth at the same time is one of the hidden treats
of this movie. With no discernible effort, Long mesmerizes Clay,
and before we know it, Clay is helping him dispose of bodies--sort
of.

Clay is supposed to be "innocent," in this situation,
and everybody keeps saying what a nice boy he is. The role
seems to call for a Jimmy Stewart or Cary Grant--one of Hitchcock's
wrongfully accused heroes. But Phoenix has none of that everyman-on-a-bad-trip
aura. He's such an inherently brooding, inward actor, so victimized
to the core, that it's hard to believe he isn't a serial
killer. Just look at his hunched shoulders--he's like a stray
dog who's survived a hit by a car or two. You can't help but think
he'd like to hit back.

But no, Vaughn gets to be the sociopath, though heavens knows
why--he seems pleasant. There's some psychomumbled allusions
to a "molester," but that doesn't make Long's drive
to kill any more comprehensible. He's evil; just that, apparently.

Thank God for Garofalo. As Dale Shelby, an F.B.I. agent assigned
to work on the case, she provides the only true note in the movie,
as well as the few genuinely funny ones. Her officer Shelby seems
as confused as we are as to why this small town comes predigested
from TV and movies. "Your deputy's name is Barney?"
she asks the Sheriff, incredulous. I was surprised to find what
a good actor Garofalo proves herself here. Not only is her comic
timing wonderful, she has the rare skill of making other actors
shine in her presence. It's only when she's on screen with Phoenix
that he finally inhabits his role, coming off like a cute, well-meaning
little brother who's fallen in with the bad boys.

Though there are some good performances here, in the end Clay
Pigeons is too trivial and inconsistent to add up to a good
movie. Though of course, that depends on what the meaning of "is,"
is.